Taco Tuesday at the Asylum
by activeagression
Summary: "How many times has he tried to kill himself?" "342 attempts, only 295 have actually worked though" In which Peter Parker tries to find home in an asylum and instead finds a whole lot of friends and a whole lot of crazy. (Many Marvel universe characters) (No powers except for Wade (so far)) (Terrible summaries)
1. Chapter 1

The asylum's exactly what Peter had expected, dull and full of eyes – all staring at him. There's pity sometimes but mostly the gazes are accusatory – like he'd just stole someone's pudding "or," he thinks shamefully to himself, "Like he'd just murdered someone's father."

It was a miracle in itself that he'd had lawyers to begin with but even with the voluntary work of Mr. Nelson and Mr. Murdock, he'd known somewhere deep inside that he'd be going to jail for this and he almost had.

But then he'd been offered the insanity plea like a fucking blessing and he'd taken it regardless of the ridiculously hot blind lawyer telling him not to.

"Maybe I am insane," he whispers as the eyes glare at him from all directions. "I'm insane," he mutters but it's a lie; he knew exactly what he was doing when he'd killed that man – sure he hadn't thought of the consequences but he'd planned it all. He should've thought about the possibility of a little girl and a wife but he hadn't, too caught up in thoughts of revenge. "He killed them!" "Killed them both!" "I'm alone because of him!"

He'd been so angry but now he thinks of Uncle Ben and Aunt May and he knows they'd hate him for this – hate him for ruining his life over an accident that he couldn't let go.

His hands curl into fists and he considers starting a fight right there in the asylum cafeteria – maybe they'd kill him, maybe he wouldn't feel so empty inside.

Before he even lifts his hand though, he feels someone else's hand… on his arse!

He swivels in his spot and finds himself face to face with a smirk.

"What's your problem?" he spits out and the smirk becomes something far more serious.

"You know, that's a good question. We don't know, neither me or all of the six therapists here," he answers and Peter glares at him.

"You know that's not what I meant," he hisses and the guy shrugs.

"You've got a nice butt. Would look great in spandex, all I'm saying."

Peter stares him down until the guy sighs, "you mental guys are no fun. I know a lot of things," he begins, "like: you have a great ass, your room number is somewhere in the 60s, you were gonna start a fight and the guys here carry Tasers."

The guy raises an eyebrow at him, "true or false?" he asks.

"True," Peter replies, "how'd you-"

"I always know," the guy interrupts then holds out a hand, "I'm Tony. Great to have such a phenomenal backside around."

Then he leaves without waiting for them to actually shake hands.

"He didn't seem all that crazy," Peter thinks as he watches him go, "Maybe it wont be so bad."

It turns out to be way worse then bad. While being led to his room, a pale, sickly looking girl grasps his arm and points to the door beside his with her free hand.

"Always closed." She tells him as though it'll make some sort of sense to him.

"Great," he nods and she nods back as if in agreement. He goes to leave and she pulls him back and points again,

"Too much pain," she whispers and he tries to pull his hand from her grip but it's useless and she grabs his wrist tight and starts crying hard, "too much death," she screams and lets go, collapsing to the ground.

He knows he should call for help but he feels too shaken up to even talk and stumbles back into his own room, slamming his door to the eyes that watch him go.

That night he gets no sleep, through no fault of his own. He tries and tries and normally Peter can get to sleep anywhere – familiar or not but all throughout the night he hears chattering from through the right wall, crashing, curse words hurled with so much sting he feels hurt by them even though they couldn't possibly be meant for him and it's loud and it's driving him insane until one moment there's yelling and the next there's dead silence.

Peter watches the wall, deciding it won't last long but it does and he smiles to himself as he buries his head into the pillow he brought from home.

"Fucking finally. Maybe the guy killed himself," he thinks happily as he drifts of to sleep.

The next morning, hush and sedation pushes through the hallway. Even the perpetually closed door beside his emits no sound – no struggle, no stilted conversation. Peter wants to be happy about it, none of the ever-constant words that have been pounding against his walls like a trapped spirit but he can't help but feel uneasy.

It's almost like everyone is scared, shocked into comatose.

There's no feeling of invisible eyes as he walks down the long corridor.

'Even the ghosts are scared,' he decides halfway. Immediately after, he wants to laugh at his own ridiculousness but he doesn't. Whether it's because he can't disrupt the unpleasant silence or because part of him actually believes it, he doesn't know.

He can't help but think that maybe being here has made him worse then he was before; at least before he didn't believe in ghosts.

"What's happened?" he whispers to Tony as he sits down across from him in the cafeteria.

"Wade hung himself," Tony answered, far louder and unconcerned then Peter would've expected.

"Who's Wade? And why do you look so fine when everyone else is freaking out?" he questions, still whispering – hissing out the words in quick succession.

"He's the guy in the room beside yours – 68 right?" Tony clarifies and then continues without confirmation because he already knows; he knows everything after all, "yeah. That guy knows how to bring out the drama. You should've seen the fuss he kicked up to actually get room 69."

"What?" Peter asks, more and more lost with every word past 'yeah' but he can't help but think back to last night, the moment where the talking had just stopped. The moment the guy must've hung himself. He felt sick suddenly at how relieved he'd felt.

"Right?" Tony laughs as though Peter just agreed with him (which he didn't), "Who actually tries to kill themselves for a room. Ridiculous. Gotta hurt too.

Peter tries really hard the wrap his head around what Tony's saying and can't. Instead he focuses on a little bit of it because maybe if he can understand that, then everything else will clear itself up, "how many times has he tried to kill himself?"

Tony tilts his head in thought and pokes at his fingers in a way that Peter suspects is more for show then anything else.

Finally Tony looks back at him and smiles charmingly, "342 attempts," he begins and Peter gapes at him about to interject with something – probably something eloquent like 'holy shit' but Tony continues on with, "only 295 have actually worked though."

If possible, Peter gapes more and starts to resemble a blown puffer fish.

"Worked!?" he squeaks and Tony shrugs, pocketing the lid of his green jelly and pulling a spoon out of his sleeve.

"Well," Peter thinks glumly as Tony spills jelly on himself, "I guess that proves that Tony's crazy then."

Late in the night as Peter attempts to sleep, he hears the same voice like the night before.

"Do you think they'll take the taco business seriously now?"

Then a pause.

"Okay… you're both insane. It's a great idea – moneymaker for the whole place and we'd get tacos... Wonderful tacos…"

As Peter stares at his ceiling he contemplates the existence of ghosts. If they did exist anywhere he has no doubt this would be the place after all. He also contemplates tacos. Lord, that'd be nice.


	2. Chapter 2

This time it isn't Peter that takes a seat in front of Tony but rather Tony sitting down in front of him with a laugh and a monster of a blonde guy.

The blonde guy's huge and Tony clutches at his arm like they're dating… or like Tony's drunk. Seeing the way 'big and blonde' peers down at Tony like he's something precious, Peter suspects both are true.

Tony leans an elbow on the table and points slightly to the side of Peter aggressively, "Peter buddy," he says, as though their two short conversations have actually made them the best of friends, "This is Cap."

He proceeds to burst into little giggles and drunkenly swipes at the guy beside him as though he'd said something particularly amusing.

Blonde guy smiles at Peter and damn, isn't he the American vision packaged into a very muscular body?

"Ignore Stark," 'Cap' tells him and Peter wonders briefly if these are actually names or just some weird nicknames they've picked out for each other.

He's answered immediately when the blonde guy sticks out his hand in a handshake of all things and quirks a crooked smile at him as, "Steve Rogers" comes out of his mouth, formal and firm.

He takes Steve's hand and it's large and warm and comforting in this house of weirdos.

"Peter Parker," he tells him and then, feeling like a crazy person as he does, leans in close.

"What do you know about Wade Wilson?" he asks, still not entirely sure Tony's sober or sane enough to actually know what he's talking about.

Steve shrugs and leans back in his chair, "not much," he says and Peter sighs because of course the only actual information would come out of the mouth of someone currently trying to sleep against Steve's arm.

"He's immortal or something," Steve says distractedly as he attempts to pull Tony into a sitting position.

"Yeah," Peter sighs glumly and then pauses to process the answer he just got… "Wait, what?"

Steve glances at him and then back at Tony, worry evident in his brows.

"Immortal. He can't die," Steve tells him as though the definition is what's baffling about this.

Peter peers at him suspiciously.

"Why are you in here?" he asks because if he's just super crazy and this is a shared hallucination or something, he's still no closer to getting his answer. Steve seems sane enough though, looking after Tony and not staring at him blankly like pretty much every other person.

The pause before Steve answers has him wondering if you're actually meant to ask things like that and god, if he wasn't meant to, he doesn't know if he could take a punch from a guy with biceps like this.

Steve smiles at him though and Peter prepares for an answer like 'Oh. I'm actually an undercover guard.' Or 'I got myself admitted to look after this idiot.' But what he actually gets is:

"I was born in 1920. Apparently that's weird."

Peter sighs inwardly and buries his face in his arms because who can he actually trust to give him a straight answer in a place specifically for mental people?

When he looks up again, both Steve and Tony have disappeared and he feels more alone then he ever has before.

While he's walking from the cafeteria into the 'rec room' that really is more of a wreck then a room, he realises, with drunken Tony and all, that he forgot to have breakfast.

He stops, turns on the spot and collides with a rock. 'It has to be a rock,' he thinks, though he knows it's not true but he's getting better at lying to himself anyway and the guy he'd walked into had not moved at all.

Now, Peter knows he doesn't weigh much but considering he's currently on the floor while the other guy is standing exactly where he was before the collision, Peter figures he's found an immovable object and was not enough of an 'unstoppable force' to come out on top.

'Immovable object' regards him through strands of long hair like he's a piece of trash on the street but stoops down regardless to help him up.

"Thanks," Peter mutters and gets nothing in return. The guy's freaking expression doesn't even change. He doesn't move though and Peter can't tell if it's because he actually might want to talk or if it's because Peter's in his way.

"Peter Parker," he tries, holding out his left hand because his other's too busy stretching the hem of his t-shirt nervously.

The other guy looks at his hand and when he looks back up he looks strangely vulnerable, nothing like the expression he had before, but takes the hand offered regardless

"Uh. Bucky Barnes?" he asks Peter and it's definitely a question but Peter doesn't really notice because the hand holding his is metal.

'A prosthetic,' his mind supplies. It's a fancy as hell prosthetic as well, all interlocking metal plates and shit.

'Bucky' sees him looking though and pulls his hand away, hiding it under his too long sweater sleeves. He still looks vulnerable, biting his lip and fidgeting like he wants to escape.

Peter thinks maybe he should comfort him but can't help himself as he asks, "What do you know about Wade Wilson?"

The other stares at him and a small (adorable) smile shyly lights up his face, "he's a dick."

Peter waits for something more but Bucky seems to be finished, looking around briefly – searching – and when he looks back at Peter the smile is gone.

"Do you know Steve," he asks in a small voice and Peter nods unsurely because he met the guy 5 minutes ago for about 2 minutes. It doesn't exactly count as 'knowing'.

"Do you know where he is?" Bucky asks, sounding anxious.

"Him and Tony left 5 minutes ago. I don't know where," Peter tells him, worried that maybe this is Steve's other boyfriend and he's screwing over someone here but Bucky gets this really shy smile again and ducks his head, embarrassed.

"Thanks," he says and then he too disappears out the cafeteria doors.

'This place is getting weirder and weirder,' he decides as he heads back into the cafeteria for breakfast.

He thinks later, as he stares at the wall of his room and listens to the excited voice behind it. He thinks about everything he knows about that voice and doesn't come up with much that makes him feel sane, words like 'immortal' and 'taco' and '342 attempts' and 'suicide' and 'dick?'

It's possible none of it is true at all. Tony was drunk today after all and Steve, caught up in another time maybe… and 'Bucky?' who hadn't even been sure of his own name and seemed bipolar as hell. They weren't exactly optimum sources of information.

He also thinks about the connection between the three and comes up with things that are equally unfamiliar and a little frightening, 'like threesomes' he thinks and tosses that thought away immediately because it's probably not at all what that was and maybe he's watched far too much porn if that's what he immediately thinks.

Half and hour later though, he gathers that thought back from where he tossed it and imagines it. Holy hell, that'd be the most attractive threesome he's ever seen.

He wonders if he'd feel guilty talking to them again if he jerked off to the idea and eventually, when it becomes apparent 'Wade' or whoever next door has also decided to have a loud as fuck wank, he does.

He doesn't think Tony would mind after all and they don't have to know or anything.

So he does. In a mental asylum while listening to another man (who's supposedly immortal) moaning and growling, Peter imagines a threesome between the three patients he's talked to so far and jerks off. Maybe it's weird but when he comes (at the same moment as the guy next door) it's the most intense orgasm of his life and he lays breathless in bed for ten minutes. He doesn't think if he tried that he could actually move in that time.

Afterwards though the only thoughts running through his mind are, "I'm insane."

It doesn't feel like he's lying now.


End file.
